


Dibs

by imoosedup



Series: TV/Movie/Book AU series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is not exactly a good guy, Dark Angel AU, Gen, Manticore, Zachariah isn't until the very end, mentions of Sam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imoosedup/pseuds/imoosedup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a simple night. Go in steal a few things get out. Dean was not expecting someone to walk in and start robbing the place after he had already claimed it. He had called dibs!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dibs

Dean was almost done with the heist when there was a noise from behind. Nothing that would seem out of the ordinary in the middle of the day while people were still about, but just after one AM with the security system conveniently off, thank you Sammy. Well, it was just this side of suspicious.

Dean ducked behind a curtain, cursing the moment that the fabric stopped swaying. A curtain? What was he five? God, Sam was going to laugh his ass off if Dean ever let this slip.

Gentle footsteps made Dean still, holding his breath while the person moved around the room.

This had been meant to be a simple case. Get in get out and sell the merchandise to the highest bidder. Just a few computers and maybe a TV if Dean could get it to the sewer, which had been all he had been hoping for. Dean didn’t think that it was too much.

A muffled curse and a quiet grunt later and Dean started thinking that maybe this wasn’t the homeowner come back early. Maybe he was safe for a little while longer.

Dean peaked around the soft fabric, peering into the darkened room. A figure huddled in a corner, the shadows hid what he was doing from Dean’s eyes. He smirked, he was safe for at least a while longer. It wasn’t like the guy could call anyone on Dean, he’d bring the heat down on himself as well.

Dean stepped out from the curtain and cleared his throat, making the figure jump and turn around. A hand landed on his side, probably to a knife. Nobody but the sector police had guns anymore.

“Whoa there, take it easy.” Dean held up his hands in a placating manner. “You don’t want to hurt anyone now.” He eyed the man before him, ruffled dark hair and a face that looked too skinny, bright eyes glared at him, their color leached away in the dark. The hand stayed at his side, tightening its grip on whatever he held.

“I was just here looking for something,” Dean continued. “You don’t happen to be trying to rob the guy right?” The man said nothing. “Good, ‘cause I call dibs.”

The man tilted his head then, confusion leaping across his face quickly before fading away to the glare he had on before. He cleared his throat before asking “Dibs?”

Dean held back a smile, “Y’know, dibs; the all mighty law of claiming things.” Dean moved to his right, keeping the kneeling man in front of him as he made his way to his bag.

“I don’t think I understand.” Even with clearing his throat the man sounded like he had something stuck in it. Like gravel, or broken glass. Either way it made him sound growly and it sent something to coil in Dean’s stomach.

“You want me to use it in a sentence?” Dean asked. When the man nodded Dean smiled. Good, he could stall some more and get to his bag, if Dean had that he could make his getaway and be on his way home before the guy knew what had hit him.

“Dibs on the last piece of pie,” Dean inched his way around the room, the man’s eyes never leaving him. Although the hand had left whatever he kept on his belt, for which Dean was very thankful. “People use it to claim things as their own.”

The man nodded. “So you laid your claim on this household, saying that to rob from it was to break the law of ‘dibs’.” He used real air quotes on the last word. God, how was this guy even a thief?

“Yup,” Dean nodded. “Got it in one.” Just a few more feet, he was so close to his bag, so close to safety he could almost hear Sam yelling at him for being an idiot.

“You do realize the irony of this correct?”

Dean stopped, squinting at the other man. “What do you mean?”

“You yourself are breaking the law, but you expect me to hold to some sort of ‘dibs’ rule.” Air quotes again, Dean was starting to feel an itching that meant he wanted to hit something. Most likely the air quoting blue eyed douchebag kneeling in the corner of the room.

“So what, I’m complicated.”

The man shrugged before turning his back on Dean. Seeming to decide that Dean was no longer his problem, well good, Dean was just gonna leave with his stolen technology and get the Hell out of dodge.

“What are you doing?” Dean heard himself asking. Damn his fucking curiosity! It was going to get him killed one day, and then where would Sam be?

“Nothing of import,” was the answer. Dean could hear the electronic beeping coming from the corner. Yeah, he thought, absolutely nothing.

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said. He had walked up behind the man, he had made his approach clear, making more noise than necessary to make sure the man could hear him. The man still jumped a little.

The guy had made a hole in the wall, wires tugged out and cut, fused back together with what looked like a small duct taped package attached.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what it must be.

The man turned to face him than. He looked younger close up, where before his face had been mostly hidden in shadow, with just enough light to see the gleam of his eyes, blue now that Dean was close enough to see.

Fucking Christ, he couldn’t be much older than Dean, he was still a kid and he was planting a something in this house.

Dean could see now that the boy, Dean couldn’t think of him as a man now, he just couldn’t. The boy’s hands where trembling, those skinny pale hands trembled as they held the wire that would fuse the thing, a bomb maybe, to the wiring of the house.

“Hey,” Dean knelt down next to him, eyes resting on the other boy’s. “What’s your name?”

The boy jerked, his hands stopped their trembling as he visibly took control of himself.

“I am called Cas.”

“So, Cas,” Dean began and paused, wetting his lips with his tongue before going on. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m fulfilling orders,” was the quick answer, said with more assurance than his name had.

Fucking Christ.

“You can’t do this,” Dean kept his voice calm, it was the same one he used with Sammy right after a nightmare. “The guy who lives here has a family; they might get caught in the crossfire.”

Cas shook his head before sticking the wires and duct tape into the wall. He stood and placed a table in front of the small hole, effectively hiding it from sight.

Dean was shaking, this was wrong, he was sure that Cas knew it. Cas had been fucking trembling while he had been working with the bomb, he knew that it was wrong but he still did it.

“Shit,” Dean said quietly. He hated this, Sam was going to be pissed at him. Dean hoped he would understand.

Dean’s hand went to his belt, grabbing the knife he kept there. Cas’ hand stopped him, gripping more tightly than anyone should be capable of. Dean gasped and let go of the knife, but Cas kept his hand gripping his wrist.

“I’m sorry about this,” Cas said. That was all the warning Dean had before Cas knocked him unconscious, he crumpled to the floor. Cas stood above him with his shoulders slumped, a broken expression on his face.

His head hurt, and not in the usual way that meant he had had too much to drink. More like ‘I just went up against a bull and let it stomp all over my head just for fun’ kind of pain.

Dean sat up, his bag sliding down to his lap, he was in an alley, miles away from the house last night. He had been lucky nobody had taken his stuff. Dean made his way down the pavement, heading towards the light that blinded him.

He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness, he looked up at the sky to gauge what time it was, smoke billowed into the clear blue.

“Shit.” Some people were muttering about an explosion, Dean knew that it had been the house. Cas had gone ahead with whatever he was planning after knocking Dean out. “Shit,” he said again.

* * *

 

“Hello 476, your mission went well I presume.” The man said from behind the desk. He didn’t ask, he never asked. He had stopped asking once 476 had made it through all the training Manticore had to offer.

476 stood at rest, arms held behind his back and feet apart. His eyes stared straight ahead, not quite looking at the man in front of him.

“Yes sir, the target was neutralized.” Killed, murdered, blown up. All these things had been done. That had been his orders.

“Very good,” the man looked away from 476, turning his attention back to his papers. “Submit your report to you S.O before you head back to the barracks. You are dismissed.”

476 turned away and marched from the room. Trying to escape the bureaucracy and blood that was held in that office. Adler hadn’t reached that position because of his winning smile and personality.

He was back in his room before long, the report filed away to be forgotten until someone would think to look over it. 476’s room was the only place he felt safe enough to think of the boy, the one who had interrupted his mission. The one who had called him Cas, when no one had called him that in a very long time.

Cas sighed, he lay on the bed and banished the boy from his thoughts. He only wished that the boy would do the same for him, Cas was not meant to be remembered.


End file.
